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“That, Wyatt Blackwell, is an understatement.”
Okay. This was flirting. This was a good thing. And maybe he should be wondering about it, considering the flirting was coming from Regan Thorne, who up until recently had been, well, thorny.
But it was the kind of flirting he hadn’t enjoyed in a long time, and he liked it. Flirting was a lost art form in his world. Most of the women he met had an endgame in mind, and they bypassed flirting for straight-up sex talk. Being a red-blooded man, he’d enjoyed it at first—what guy wouldn’t like to not have to do all that work just to get a woman into bed?
But lately he found it so damn mechanical and cold and premeditated. There was no challenge, and there was no fun in that. No getting to know someone before the sex part. But Regan? She wasn’t so easy with her charms, and he was really digging that.
She fiddled with his radio until she found a station she liked—country was in her wheelhouse, it seemed—and they settled in for the ride, chatting about everything and nothing. By the time they got to the city, he’d learned a few things about Regan Thorne, and some of them surprised him.
She was allergic to dogs and took meds in order to keep Bella. She was also allergic to horses. And cats. And cows and pigs. Probably fish, if that were possible.
She’d wanted to be a veterinarian her entire life, but because of said allergies, thought it best she put her abilities to work saving humans. Which was the only reason she’d become a doctor.
She’d won the 100-meter rac
e in fifth grade. A feat that surprised many, because Jessica Barnes could easily beat all the grade five girls—even if she started a few seconds later than the pack. Of course, it was easy to beat Jessica when she didn’t show up for the race. However, the only reason she didn’t show up for the race was because Regan had told her the final was scheduled for noon…an hour later than it ran.
“That’s pretty damn devious and underhanded.” Wyatt shook his head and navigated a turn.
“I know. I felt awful about it.” She tried to hide her grin but was unsuccessful. “But I still have my red ribbon, and whenever I see it, it makes me feel good.”
He liked this wicked side.
Regan volunteered at Children’s Hospital in the city once a month. (Not a surprise.) She hated peas and carrots but loved brussels sprouts. (There was no accounting for taste.) She had a weakness for cheese fondue, dill-flavoured popcorn, Seinfeld and The Office. She thought Steve Carell was hot as hell, Christian Bale undoubtedly the best Batman, and that Wonder Woman could kick the whole of the Justice League’s asses.
Wyatt could agree on the Wonder Woman thing. Most women he knew were fierce even if they didn’t know it. He could even get behind the Batman thing. But Steve Carell? He shot her a look as they pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine. Now that, he couldn’t figure out.
“What is this place?” Regan peered out at the large, cavernous building in front of them. The entire lot was empty, save for his truck and a bright red Volkswagen Beetle parked near the side entrance. Though recently plowed, the place looked abandoned.
“Jack’s Place?” She turned to him, a slight frown on her face.
“It belongs to my buddy, Jack Turner. Grand opening is in a couple weeks.”
“And we’re here because…” Her voice trailed off, and that cute little frown was still very much in place.
Wyatt reached for the door handle. “Come with me and see.”
He waited for Regan to exit his truck and, carrying her black-and-pink sneakers, followed her to the door. It was unlocked, and they let themselves in. The place was mostly in darkness, save for the neon signs that lit up a bar to their right and the pit area straight ahead. A mountain of a man appeared from nowhere, arms covered in tattoos, hair slicked back in a ponytail. He sported a full beard, a nose ring, and diamond studs in both ears. His smile was wide and inviting, and he eyed up Regan with an appreciative glance.
Jack Turner. The best damn mechanic in NASCAR. At least until his future wife made him choose life on the road or life with her. He’d chosen her and had ended up not far from Crystal Lake about a year ago.
Wyatt shook his hand and introduced him to Regan.
“Here’s the keys. Lock up when you’re done.” Jack winked at Regan, grabbed a leather jacket from the bar, and headed for the door.
“He’s leaving.” Regan watched the big man go.
“He is.”
“So, we’re here alone.”
“We are.”
“With an open bar?”
Wyatt grinned. “Well, I’m driving, but help yourself.”
“And is that…” She was looking toward the pit. “Bumper cars?”
